I tumbled over the side and uneasily tilt upwards
almost always just shy of toppling back over.
Brush my teeth while thinking of new posts
and e-mails and those thank-you notes
I haven’t written yet.
I toggle all day until I arrive home and yeah-
toggle all night till I tumble over sideways,
almost face downward, curl my feet round
each other and toggle in my head
until finally I fall asleep.
Don't fret. You don't have to be kind. Anyone who writes should know to grow a thick skin. The draft is a response to a prompt written so time ago. I'm a bit out of sorts today. Another shift in my life : welcome to the ranks of the unemployed. Oddly, I am not panicked. I'm a Detroiter. We're resilient. Today, Poetry Friday is hosted by Kyle at The Boy Reader.